


Should Have Seen It In Color

by Camlann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Civil War (Marvel), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camlann/pseuds/Camlann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers being tucked in and thinking that was a very small place to die in. Such a small plane, fallen to the floor of his bedroom, and Tony has no idea why when he was so young he couldn’t put it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should Have Seen It In Color

  
_I see you’ve found a box of my things -_   
_Infantries, tanks and smoldering airplane wings._   
_These old pictures are cool. Tell me some stories_   
_Was it like the old war movies?_   
_Sit down son. Let me fill you in_

_Where to begin? Let’s start with the end_   
_This black and white photo don’t capture the skin_   
_From the flash of a gun to a soldier who’s done_   
_Trust me grandson_

_The war was in color_

His wife tells him that his son is refusing to go to bed. And it’s all because of this model airplane that the little boy has pulled from the back of the shed. That confuses him enough that the engineer walks up the stairs of the sprawling place and watches his son play from a distance, cringing slightly as he sees what’s in his hands, though he doesn’t step in to stop him. The kid is zooming around his room, making noises for the guns. It’s only when he crash lands the plane into his bed and spots him that the man steps forward.

“Daddy!” the little boy shouts, bolting at his father’s legs only to be caught and lifted the last second, babbling about how he’s found this in his things. “What is it? Does it shoot? Can we make it shoot? Why does it look broken, Daddy?”

Howard Stark keeps little Anthony on his hip for a moment, taking the replica of the Valkyrie in his hand and away from sticky fingers. Lord knows what Tony had gotten into before bed to get this out of the trunk tucked far away from where the little boy was supposed to be.

“We can’t make it shoot, son, no. That’s not what this is.”

“But… it’s one of yours, isn’t it? A proto… a prototype. Right?”

“Not… exactly.”

“Then what is it?”

Howard’s gaze darkens enough that little Anthony falls quiet, curling closer to his father’s chest as he’s moved to his bed. Nose in his father’s collar, he doesn’t know what he’s done but he feels like he’s about to get into trouble. He always gets into trouble with his father, though, so he’s not entirely surprised. Even at the fresh age of four.

What he finds instead is a very tired man that sits on the edge of his bed after pulling the covers over little legs and handles the replica like it’s Mama’s china dishes.

“It’s a long story.”

“But Daaad…”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you Anthony. Please. Stay quiet.”

And it’s the wince of a memory of gunfire and explosions, though the little boy doesn’t know that’s what’s caused the flinch at that age, that makes him do exactly that. Anthony just knows that he does that too, when Daddy yells. So he stays real quiet and tucks his knees against his chest.

Daddy never tells him bedtime stories. He’s not going to pass up the chance.

“Where to even begin,” is the quiet reward for his silence and Howard Stark ages then and there. More than he ever had in the little boy’s eyes. Suddenly, to Anthony Stark, his father is… old. Very old. Older than he should be. It makes him crawl forward and tuck under his arm, and for once he’s allowed to stay. “His name is one we all know, Anthony. We all know him. So. Let’s start with the end.”

———

Howard Stark is many things. A husband, a father, an inventor. A charmer to an extent, a drinker to more. When things don’t go his way, there’s little he does that doesn’t try to change it right off. And he’s obsessive. He has the knack to be. He has the desire to not let things go.

This would always be one of those things. There were plans that suddenly didn’t matter and he remembers it clear as if it were yesterday. To him, it was. Almost. It replayed so often in front of his eyes that it might as well have been the day after last.

“This son, is the Valkyrie. She was a plane that the enemy used in World War Two. And she took down with her the most important man we knew.”

It wasn’t just that. It was that they never found him either. Captain America wouldn’t have settled for not bringing someone home. Howard can remember the day he grew before his very eyes. The young man that had gone out to war with friends at his back had become stiff right before him too. He’d come back broken and cold and distance and ready for a fight, walking into that base to announce that his friend had fallen and he wouldn’t find him. They’d tried. That’s why they were late in pick up. He’d been ready then to rip the enemy to shreds, and Howard had finally seen the blood on his hands then, because he showed it willingly. The willingness to destroy and fight for what he believed. For what had been taken from him. Ready to make anything happen, just to make the war end.

Ready to die.

Howard wonders if he always knew. If Steve Rogers knew he wouldn’t make it home from war. And that fills him with more cold than those seas did when he was still out on them, looking for that blasted ship he can only hold a replica of in his hands now.

“He was brave. And made a difference without asking anything in return. He was a hero, Anthony. A real one. A real superhero. They don’t make those in this world. They make villains and they make heroes but Cap… The Captain was a real superhero.”

He doesn’t realize he’s staring off into the dim light of the room until Anthony shifts ever so slightly at his side. The boy is small, little. Human and tiny and doesn’t realize what the world holds. Has no idea. But he will. Howard needs to make sure that the future is brighter than the past he remembers.

The past that flickered out its brightness when it left blue eyes that snapped to him suddenly every time he said something. That calculated deaths and projectiles and hold to bring men down instead of how to lift them up. That day had changed everything and that day… they’d lost what they’d worked so hard for. And so down he’d gone and Howard’s fingers tighten so hard around the model that it breaks off one of the wings.

“He died for all of us, same as he would today if he were here. Same as he always would. He fought for us so we didn’t have to. He wore red, white, and blue and don’t you ever forget that someone died for you to get here, Anthony. That none of this would be possible without that man that saved the world.”

It’s another long pause and he can tell that Anthony doesn’t understand. But then, the little boy raises his head and climbs onto his knee and brown eyes are so much more intelligent than he knows what to do with.

He doesn’t want his son to be like him. But that’s hardly a matter of his decision, was it?

“Who was he, daddy?”

“His codename was Captain America. He’s going to be in your history books, Anthony. And he’ll always be there. His name was Steve Rogers though, and you’ll never find anyone like him.”

“Did he die, Dad?”

“Yes son. He died. For me. For you. For all of us. And that plane right here? He died in that.”

———

He remembers being tucked in and thinking that was a very small place to die in. Such a small plane, fallen to the floor of his bedroom, and Tony has no idea why when he was so young he couldn’t put it together.

He does now though, looking through a trunk of photos and finding the one he’s been searching for. It’s Cap alright, the legend himself.

Tony wonders why he never noticed the bags under his eyes or the way his shoulders never eased. He wore the same posture in every one of the photos spread out over his lab. Good old Cap but he’s starting to see him for what feels like the first time. Because that’s the legend. The posture, the hands behind his back, the voice that he can hear if he just went upstairs and to the kitchen. But that’s not the man that they all find off and on around the tower at the wee hours the morning, sketching with nothing more than a grunt in passing. That’s not the man that looks at Tony sometimes and Tony knows he doesn’t see him at all, but a face he hates, hates, hates. But it’s always gone in a blink and then there’s the legend again. Rogers is always ready for anything, but mainly he’s always ready for battle.

How could he not see that before? How did this happen, that he’d missed something like this? That there was a man behind the mask?

Not that it matters in the aftermath of Manhattan. At least, not much. They’re all learning each other over again. First impressions being a doozy, Tony opens up the tower to five others and hopes that the suit is enough to win their esteem. And it seems to be working, because Bruce eventually slips down into the lab with him and eyes the black and white photos spread everywhere, a question in his eyes.

“He’s an old fart.”

“He’s… older than most, yes.”

“Think this blue is as bright as the one he wears now?”

“Can’t tell. The photo isn’t all that clear.”

“That’s because it doesn’t show the skin,” came a hard voice from the door, deep and low and perfectly still. There’s no emotion in it, just a flat tone that makes Tony jump and Bruce tense. But Steve is unassuming in the door, leaning against it with his shoulder and arms crossed. He also eyes the photos, but he doesn’t move for them, doesn’t even linger on any of them too long, even though they’re of him and his past.

That is until he spots one tucked away and he moves slow and sure into the lab, picking it up with a flick and blinking once, twice at it before it gets pocketed and he’s moving back to the door.

“Hey!”

“Tony, don’t.”

“Do you even know who these men are, Stark?”

Tony didn’t realize Steve could move so damn fast. Despite watching him fight, he hadn’t had it directly near him and he steps back at the sudden venom in the Captain. If he wanted a reaction, this wasn’t it, though.

“I can name the names of every one of your team.”

“Then drop it.”

“I thought they would have given you something of theirs.”

“There’s nothing left, Stark. Go back to your photos, but they won’t show you anything.”

“His name was Bucky, right?”

The quiet that descends is perhaps worse than the violence. And Tony comes to the quick conclusion that he’s pushing buttons he may not want to. But he’s already started and so he pushes on, like he always does. Bruce stays quiet in his seat, watching the Captain more than his friend and ‘lab buddy,’ as he’s been deemed.

“James Barnes.”

“Leave this alone, Stark.”

“Was he as good a shot as they say?”

“Why?”

“Was he?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s from your team. And I need to know who Barton is going up against.”

“Don’t compare them, Stark. Just… don’t.”

And Tony remembers the way his father aged before his eyes, all those years ago. And it’s frightening to watch Steve Rogers do the same, knowing that he’s only really twenty-three. It stops him, completely, and he can hear Bruce sigh a bit behind him as Steve faces off with him. The posture is the same but there are those bags under his eyes and no matter how much his father lauded him as a superhero, Tony knows that in the end, the Captain does feel every hit, every shot, every tear and cut. On both sides, the ones he gets that physically hurt him and then the ones he gives, which seem to thicken that stone coating around the legend every time he goes out to fight.

“Uh…”

“James Barnes is a blue star traded in for gold, Stark. Don’t try to compare him to another thinking you’re going to be able to replicate my team here. You’re not the same. And you won’t’ be. And we’re going to have to figure this out for ourselves.”

And if Steve sounds for once like he’s trying to convince himself more than Tony, it feels right to let it slide on by as the Captain turns away.

“Thor wanted to inform you that dinner was ready.”

“Righto. Be right up.”

“See you there.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that when Tony and Bruce do emerge from the labs, there’s no Captain in sight.

———

All it takes is once shot and a hero is lost. And suddenly, Tony Stark realizes why his father talked about the Captain so much. Because with his shield in someone else’s hands and the news playing the scene on the steps of the Capital over and over again… he thinks that maybe Rogers would know what to do here when he didn’t.

———

“Come on, man! It’s my last night. Gotta get you cleaned up.

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.”

 

  
_Now I lay in my grave at age 21_   
_Long before you were born_   
_Before I bore a son_   
_What good did it do?_   
_Well hopefully for you_   
_A world without war_   
_A life full of color_

_Where to begin? Let’s start with the end_   
_This black and white photo never captured my skin_   
_Once it was torn from an enemy thorn_   
_Straight through the core_   
_The war was in color_

**Author's Note:**

> Song: "The War Was In Color" by Carbon Leaf


End file.
